


The Timeless Detective

by Optimistic_Lyricist



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), Elementary (TV), Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films)
Genre: AU, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BBC, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-16
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 17:50:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1046766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optimistic_Lyricist/pseuds/Optimistic_Lyricist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor meets Sherlock Holmes during three points in his life, all very different than the last...in 1891 London (the Robert Downey Jr films), in modern day London (Benedict Cumberbatch in the BBC drama), and modern day New York (Jonny Lee Miller in Elementary). Pretty much every time The Doctor met this man (or men) Sherlock would die...or so he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> What if The 11th Doctor never met Clara, The Impossible Girl? What if he met Sherlock Holmes, The Impossible Detective, instead? That's the basic concept behind this story. The Doctor meets Sherlock Holmes in three points in his life, all much different than the last...in 1891 London (Robert Downey Jr films), in modern day London (Benedict Cumberbatch in the BBC Drama) and modern day New York (Jonny Lee Miller in CBS Drama Elementary). Pretty much every time The Doctor met this man (or men) Sherlock would die...or so he thought. Eventually, they all end up in the same place and now The Doctor is wondering what exactly is going on with time for this to happen. All he knows so far is that it's not possible. I apologize ahead of time if the build up is slow as we'll start off with how The Doctor encountered each version of Sherlock and that alone is gonna take a few chapters but I promise, once we're done with that, the juicy stuff shall commence. And of course, I don't own any of these characters or the universes they appear. Those rights go to the brilliant minds of Arthur Conan Doyle and Steven Moffat among others. Please, support their works. I own nothing and I'm just using their world to write an interesting story. This was just a nice little idea I had and I hope you all enjoy it, starting with the prologue...and don't hesitate to comment because your feedback is always appreciated...
> 
> Let's begin, shall we?
> 
> (Btw, the opening image is not mine nor do I know who it belongs to. If you know who made it, please let me know so I can give them credit.)

 

 

We're in the TARDIS. The control room to be specific. In the midst of a Mexican standoff between three men pointing revolvers at each other. Each revolver looking suspiciously similar. One man was tall and very slim with ruffled hair and cheekbones strong enough to break a nail over if slapped. He had a blue scarf wrapped around his neck. He had his gun pointed at a man with a rugged beard, a square jaw, short but messy hair, and a red scarf with black stripes around his neck. He had his gun pointed at another man with a minor stubble, messy but longish hair, and wearing maroon frock garb; the kind of clothing you'd find in the 19th Century.

"Who are you?" Asked cheekbones, demanding to know.

"I should be asking you the same thing. You don't belong here, at all." Stated the rugged man in the red scarf.

"I wasn't talking to you, but while we're at it, I'd like to know who you are as well." Cheekbones told red scarf. "Also, I'm not sure I'm quite comfortable that you're the only one without a gun pointed at you. You, would you mind?" Cheekbones asked turning to the man in the 19th century garb.

"Gladly." Said 19th century man, switching pointing his gun at both men now at 2 second intervals. "Happy?" He asked cheekbones in a sarcastic tone.

"I'd be happier if two guns weren't pointed at me to begin with." Stated cheekbones.

"That'll make two of us." 19th century smirked. "Sorry, I think that'll go for all three of us, correct?" He asked turning to red scarf.

"Correct." Red scarf nodded. "How did you two get here anyway?"

"I'm trying to figure that out myself." Stated 19th century. "While I don't know where I am, I do know I don't trust either of you, even if I don't know who either of you are."

Cheekbones nodded. "I know where I am, but that doesn't mean I trust either of you either."

"Mind filling me in on where we are?" Asked 19th century.

Before cheekbones could answer, an Asian woman in her mid-30's walked in from the back entrance of the TARDIS to see what all the noise she heard was about. She gasped when she saw the three. "What's going on now?" She asked confused.

"We're trying to figure that out ourselves, actually." Answered red scarf.

"By pointing guns at each other?" She asked with an eyebrow raise.

"Is there any better means of getting to know each other?" 19th century asked sarcastically.

Cheekbones rolled his eyes. "Has anyone mentioned to you how much of a cheeky nuisance you are?"

19th century nodded. "Oh yes. Many times now that you mention it. Where do I begin? Um...my mother, my brother, my father, my partner, his wife-"

"I'll go get The Doctor." The woman interrupted and said before sprinting back to where she came from.

"Yes, Watson, The Doctor is probably the best option at the moment." Said Red Scarf

"WATSON?!" Both cheekbones and 19th century said simultaneously as their eyes lit up.

Red scarf raised an eyebrow. "Yes, that's Watson. Is that a problem?"

Cheekbones scoffed. "I know Watson and that is certainly _not_ Watson."

"I concur...wait how do you know Watson?" Asked 19th century.

"You must be mad if you think I'll tell a stranger about Watson." Stated cheekbones, standing his ground.

Red scarf groaned and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Gentlemen, this is clearly some misunderstanding. Neither of you know my Watson. You both may know A Watson, but not THIS Watson just as I'm sure neither of you know MY Doctor who should be joining us shortly."

"I know many doctors. I even know THE Doctor, but I doubt that would be the same Doctor as my Doctor is unlike any Doctor anyone could have the pleasure...or displeasure...of meeting." Said 19th century.

"As do I, but The Doctor I know...I'm not even sure he earned a doctorate degree. It's probably just a moniker he uses for his own pleasure or some kind of tepid codename." Said cheekbones.

Speaking of, the aforementioned bowtied Doctor looked at the sight with a gasp in shock in the doorway before properly entering.

**"Sherlock!"**

"What, Doctor?!" Said all three men, now looking at each other with confused looks.

The Doctor gulped as he slicked his hair back. "Look, Sherlocks...I can explain everything. Well, maybe not everything, but I certainly can fill in some missing blanks. Just as soon as you all put your guns down."

All three men stuffed their guns in their coat pockets. "Explain." Ordered 19th century.

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, well this all started the day that I met Sherlock Holmes..."


	2. When I Met Sherlock Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the record, the parts where The Doctor is telling the story of what happened are all told from his perspective. Hope that's okay? If not, I don't mind going back to having everything from a Third Person Perspective. I'm just experimenting with switching perspectives to see how well it can work, but don't hesitate to tell me its stupid. Just let me know in the reviews. Also, 19th Century Sherlock's story takes place during Game of Shadows, albeit a bit tweaked. Among other things, the gypsy from the film won't be involved. She'd take up too much space for the story so if you liked her, I'm sorry but she won't be making an appearance. And just as a reminder, since The Doctor doesn't meet Clara, this takes place after Angels in Manhattan, meaning The Doctor was still mourning over Rory and Amy at this point. Now, as always, enjoy :)

I arrived in London. 1891 London to be specific. I'd been travelling alone for awhile, as hard as it is to admit. I...*gulp*...lost two of my friends. I don't really want to go into specifics if you don't mind. Anyway, I arrived there to begin a long retirement, but let's just say a certain lizard lady and her wife can be very persuasive. Them and their butler, Mr. Potato. Love them to death, but they're a persnickety bunch. They made me promise to take at least one more case. Just one more case and I'll be done with the universe because frankly, the universe doesn't care. They told me they had gotten a scoop on a man who planned to start the first World War a little ahead of schedule. Though honestly, if World War I happened now instead of 1914, Adolph Hitler wouldn't be able to use the aftermath to climb to power, but I digress. War is war and war is bad no matter where or when it takes place. That's why I realized this case needed my immediate attention, whether I was willing or not.

* * *

"What happened to the lizard woman? Why didn't her and her partners help you?" Asked the cheekboned Sherlock, interrupting The Doctor's story.

The Doctor glared at him. "Because they had other spacey wacey stuff to tend to!"

"Spacey wacey?" Asked the red scarfed Sherlock with an eyebrow raise.

"Yes! Spacey wacey! Hadn't anyone told you how rude it is to interrupt someone while they were talking?! Don't answer that...just...may I continue my story? Please?" The Doctor asked in a plea to which cheekbones nodded.

* * *

Ugh. Thank you. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, the start of the case. They told me where I could find Sherlock as he'd be at his partner's bachelor party as the wedding would be the following day. It was a beautiful wedding, by the way, but I'm getting ahead of myself. Point is for now is that I had just arrived to the stag party to find Sherlock's very mustachioed assistant John Watson having the time of his life, gambling with his mates. I could tell he was losing, poor bastard, but I didn't want to burst his bubble. I approached him and asked...

"Excuse me, Doctor John Watson, do you know where I can find Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

He looked at me confused. Bewildered even. He had every right to be. People tend to get suspicious when a complete stranger approaches them, referring to them on a first name basis. "Who wants to know?" He asked me.

"A very concerned party member. Where can I find him?"

"What do you want with my brother?" Asked a shadowy figure who appeared before John could answer. He was a very hefty man, but a dapper one. I'll give him that. "My brother doesn't have any friends, aside from this unfortunate sod sitting beside me so you can't be that. Judging by your rather unique attire you can't be aligned with the authorities and frankly, I'm pretty sure you're not aligned against him or with anyone for that matter. Don't take this the wrong way but I get the feeling that you're...lonely. At least he has one friend. You're standing alone in front of me."

I gulped. He was right. It made me feel like an open book that some stranger can look at me and know so much about me from a glance. It made me feel rather upset and even angry that he got all that from a mere deduction. Little did I know that that was just a taste as to what dealing with his brother Sherlock would be like.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded to know in my anger, gritting my teeth.

"Holmes. Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock's older, and much smarter brother." He chuckled like the smarmy bastard his personality exuded. "And I still haven't caught your name...Mister?"

"I'm not a mister...I'm The Doctor. I'm here to help your brother on a case of his. I'd just like to know where he is."

"I see." He said and then glaced at the balcony above my head and chuckled a bit. I didn't understand why. Not yet anyway. "Well, speak of the devil, my brother should be dropping in on us momentarily. I advise you to take at least three steps back."

I did just that. Didn't understand why. I just had a gut feeling that I'd be grateful for the advice. "Ok, but why do I-"

Just then, the man himself Sherlock Holmes crashed over the balcony and unto the poker table. He stumbled off the ground in a daze. Chips and quid and cards were spilled everywhere on the floor as everyone looked at the man in bewilderment. Well, before they rushed to the ground, tackling each other for the money. John certainly didn't like that, but that's not important. Sherlock stumbled and ran away. Just before I could approach him, some cloaked assassin leaped off the balcony, wielding a knife, and ran after Sherlock. That's when I decided to run after them both. It's what I do best anyway so I thought _Why the hell not?_

After running up and down the ship, I lost the assassin somehow, but Holmes was still in my sight. Holmes ran to a dead end. He didn't see that the assassin was on the ceiling, waiting to strike. Something my keen eye luckily caught a glimpse of. I tackled Holmes out of the way just in time before the assassin could pounce on Holmes. Without even a thank you, Sherlock pushed me out of his way and then tussled with this assassin before kicking him out the stadium. Literally. He kicked him through the walls into a river bank. Nice kick by the way, old sport.

Before I could say anything to him, he turned to me suspiciously. "Who are you and why did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Save my life."

"Would you rather I let him kill you?"

"No, but the fact that I've never seen you before in my life makes me wonder why you'd care if he did. Who are you?"

"I'm The Doctor."

"Doctor who?"

I rolled my eyes. No matter how many years I get asked that, it never stops being annoying. "That's a dangerous question."

"Nothing wrong with a bit of danger from time to time."

I grinned at him. I started to like him already. Before I could properly explain why I was there, a pummeled, groggy, and clearly inebriated Watson walked through the door. "Just had a fight." He said before falling in a drunken stupor. "Just had a fight. Where were you?"

Sherlock shrugged. "Oh nothing. Just running for my life. Escaping death. The usual."

I chuckled to myself. That just reminded me of my good ol' days of traveling. But as far as I was concerned...those days were long gone.

"Help me with him, would you? Be useful for once." Sherlock ordered at me.

I raised an eyebrow. _As if I haven't already? I saved your life._ I thought. But I helped anyway. We both carried John's nearly unconscious body out of the mansion and into the car. Hauled him into the back where he doze off while Sherlock drove and I rode shotgun. On the drive to the wedding reception, I explained what I heard about this Moriarty fellow. I told him his plan and Sherlock responded as such...

"So, let me get this straight...because he's bankrupt, he's being paid to sell weapons and orchestrate the assassination of the Prime Minister because he's being paid a hefty sum, more than half of his prior income?" He questioned.

"Correct." I nodded. "Though I don't know why he wants you killed."

"Simple. Who do you think made him bankrupt?" He sounded smug of himself, signifying just with his eyes, just so I know he made Moriarty bankrupt.

My eyes lit up. "How did you-"

"Long story. I take it he's still cross with me. Now back to you. You are here to assist me on this case?"

"Correctumundo."

"Very well. With Watson slacking his duties because of his...bloody wife...you could be of some use to me. And you got all this information about Moriarty's plan from a lizard woman?"

"Righty-o!"

"With such...ludicrous...reasons, you expect me to believe you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"You exude the presence of a delusional mad man who believes he talks to lizard women and is a man from space."

"It's only one lizard woman. I never said I was from space. I said I travel in space, though technically since all planets like Earth and my own happen to be in space, I suppose we're all from space. I have a space ship up the block. Big blue box, you can't miss it. I can show you if-"

He interrupted me, which was rather rude of him but I suppose I was rambling. "No need. Even if you are insane, I need all the help I need given I'm a tad stressed on time. The prime minister will be making an appearance at a ball in the next day or two. Can I trust you by my side?"

"Yes, just as you trust me now." I smiled.

"Actually, I don't. The only reason I let you in this vehicle is because you were convenient help to carry Watson. Speaking of...here we are. Will you be joining us for the wedding?"

I was tempted to say yes, but I shook my head. "As much as I love a good wedding, I hate to intrude. Won't it look strange for a stranger to be in attendance at the wedding of a man he doesn't even know?"

He shrugged. "I know the groom and only a couple others here and I'll still get stranger looks that you. Just my landlady and the bride, who I don't approve of but I digress."

We stopped in front of the church. I started to wake Watson up but that's when clarinets started blaring. It definitely startled Watson. We helped him on his feet and walked him inside.

Later, after the big kissing ceremony, they started to cut the cake, which was delicious by the way, I saw Holmes wander out. I went to check on him and he started to walk into hearse with a bearded man, who I later would learn was named Sebastian Moran, but that's later. "Sherlock, what are-" I started to call at him, but he ignored me, still getting in only with telling me...

"Stay out of this, Doctor. This isn't of your concern."

The hearse sped off, leaving me to just stay and enjoy the wedding. Which was really fun. Reminder of why I love weddings, even if I didn't know the groom. Afterwards, I let myself into 221B Baker Street and waiting on him for further orders. I sat in a chair and after a while, the door opened, but it wasn't Sherlock who walked in...

it was Doctor John Watson, much to my surprise and I to his.

"Can I help you?" He inquired after he jumped in shock.

"Not like I helped you last night." I chuckled a bit. "Shouldn't you be on honeymoon?"

He squinted his eyes in confusion. "I will. I just forgot something important here. Sorry, helped me?" It took him a minute, but he finally remembered who I was. "Wait, you're that bloke from last night, asking to see Holmes, aren't you?" He asked me, to which I nodded. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I got your name?"

"You didn't. I don't give my name so you may refer to me simply as and only as The Doctor, Doctor. It's funny calling someone else doctor. Wonder how long that'll last before it gets tedious."

"How did you get in?"

"Through the door."

"Holmes gave you a key?"

"No, I let myself in."

"So you've broken in?"

"No, look around. Nothing's broken."

"You are in Holmes's home without his permission, uninvited, in his chair. That is breaking and entering and I am calling the police."

"I thought you and Holmes were the police?"

"We work for the police! There's a difference!"

"Is there? You both carry guns. You get paid to solve crimes. Catch criminals. Professions may be different, but they're one in the same nonetheless."

I could tell that I left Doctor Watson dumbfounded and speechless. I didn't mean to. Honest. I can't help it how clever I am.

"Shut up. I'm calling the police." He fired back, the clever goose. He started to call the police, but that's when Sherlock Holmes walked in. He had this look on his face. A look I know all too well. A look of heartbreak. He was gripping a handkerchief in his hand.

"Sherlock, do you know this man?" Watson asked as he hung up the phone, pointing at me.

Sherlock nodded. "With you away on honeymoon, he'll be helping me though it looks like you'll be on this case now too."

We both looked as Sherlock confused. "And why is that?" Watson asked.

"Moriarty doesn't just want to kill me. He wants to kill everyone around me." Sherlock explained to which I gasped.

Watson scoffed. "I think Mary and I can handle ourselves just fine." He said.

"Is that why I just had to save her life when a barrage of men stormed in your home?"

Watson froze in shock. "Don't worry, she's fine. I sent her to my brother's." Sherlock tried to reassure his companion.

Watson scoffed angrily. I suppose having your honeymoon interrupted by such an inconvenience would make any man angry. "Well that really calms me down. Leaving my wife with another Holmes." He said with confusion. "Why am I not surprised that I've been dragged into another fine mess because of your doing?! Now you've dragged Mary into this?! Why don't you just get Irene's help on this one because I want noth-"

"Dead." Sherlock interrupted bluntly, sounding heartbroken.

"What?" Watson asked as I was still confused as to who this Irene was. All I knew was that she had to be important to put Sherlock in this state.

"Dead. Irene is dead. He killed her." Sherlock repeated, gulping.

Watson sighed. "I hope you're not hurt by this or anything. She was just a harlot who plotted against you."

Still keeping that broken expression on his face, Sherlock sprinted towards Watson and grabbed him by his collar, pushing him against the wall in anger. Sherlock sighed and walked into the bedroom.

"Who is Irene?" I asked Watson in confusion.

He fixed his collar and jacket before responding. " _The_ Woman."

"What woman? What kind of a woman-"

He chuckled a bit. "Not A Woman. Not to him. _The_ Woman. Talk to him. He'll explain."

I sighed and went to talk to Holmes in his bedroom. I walked in to see him sitting on the bed sniffing the handkerchief, noticing an engraved _A_ on the handkerchief. He stopped when I cleared my throat and closed the door behind me. He quickly stuffed the handkerchief in his coat pocket. "What? What do you want?" He asked me.

I paused me. Seeing how heartbroken he was just...I saw a lot of myself in him. How I'd been acting since I lost my friends. How sad I looked. How sad I was. It didn't help that when I sat down next to him, there was a mirror across from me. When I saw myself, all I could think was _What happened to you?_

"Well?!" Sherlock asked, snapping me out of my trance.

"Um...who is _The_ Woman?"

He sighed. "Does it matter? She's gone."

I sighed. "Sherlock, I know it may be hard to believe, but I've been where you are right now. Oh yes. Many times. Too many times. I know what it feels like to lose something...someone, and it feels like your whole world has crashed down. But, it'll get better. It won't feel like it now. Probably won't for awhile. But it will. Just trust me." I gave a sympathetic smile. I don't know if that talk helped him, but it kinda made me feel better. Brought me back to reality after sulking for a while.

"Why should I trust you?" He asked.

I chuckled, resting my hand on his shoulder. "Because you should always trust your doctor."

He smirked a bit, but it slowly faded from his face. "I sincerely doubt a man like yourself would have a doctorate degree, but it doesn't matter. Come on now..." He stood from the bed and headed towards the door.

"...we have a case to solve."


	3. The Night Sherlock Holmes Died

Now, to make a longish story short, me, Holmes, and Watson did some snooping and what we found out was a confirmation that Moriarty was going to have the Prime Minister killed the following night at the banquet, only it won't be at his own hand. Instead, he has a right hand man named Sebastian Moran, who Watson actually worked with in the war. He was a skilled marksman turned ruthless assassin. I found out the ruthless side of him when he caught us all snooping, but again, long story. Long story which, by the way, ended with me saving Watson and Watson saving Holmes. We made out in time to formulate a proper plan which was...well we had no plan, which is actually my kind of plan.

The three of us walked into the banquet that night, looking quite dapper I might add, with two objectives in mind other than save the Prime Minister of course. Find Moran and find Moriarty. Holmes chose to take care of the latter, though neither me or Watson had any idea how he would go about doing so. In order to not look suspicious, Holmes asked me to dance. We shashayed across the dance floor as we went over a plan in sweet whispers.

"Do you see him? Either of them?" I asked, referring to Moran and Moriarty, as I noticed Sherlock's eyes scanning the room. "What do you see?"

"Everything." Sherlock replied dryly. "I see everything. That is my curse. I can't find what I'm looking for, but I see everything else."

"Every curse is a gift if you use it correctly and might I say, your deductions are a brilliant gift."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "If that's the case, where can I send this gift back? Hope there isn't a hefty return fee."

I chuckled a bit at that. "So what are we going to do?"

"Solve the case, of course. To do that, you find Moran first and foremost. You and Watson should keep in mind that he may be in a sort of disguise and he may not be working alone. Even if Moran is his right hand man, that wouldn't stop Moriarty from taking needed precautions. His Plan B."

"If he's in a disguise, how will we find him then?"

"Propose the assassin will take needed measures to ensure he doesn't give himself away. Like a gambler concealing his tell. In that case, look for even the smallest characteristics that seem the easiest to blend into."

"What if he's just really good at hiding in plain sight?"

"Anybody can do well at hiding. Anyone can conceal their identity, but the one thing no can hide from is..." He paused and twirled me around before letting go of me. "...spontaneous reaction."

"And where are you going to be?" I asked.

"If I know Moriarty as well as I think I do, he'll be on the balcony. I'll take care of him there in a moment. But first, if you excuse me, I need to have a few words with Dr. Watson before I'm off." I didn't realize that those words would be the last words Sherlock would say to me before he...well, you know. He walked over to Dr. Watson and asked him to dance.

"I thought you'd never ask." Watson told Sherlock before they did their own little shashaying on the dance floor. It was moments like seeing their dancing that really resonated their friendship. Which I'm sure made it even more painful for Watson to see what he saw later that night. After a minute or so, they finished dancing and the last thing Watson told Holmes before he left for the balcony was, "Be careful." Those were the last words Watson said to him before...you know.

Watson walked over to me and together we started to scan the room. "Alright, who are we looking for? Moran or an accomplice?" I inquired.

"The accomplice." Watson replied as he looked around the entire room attentively, as did I. "Moran would be too obvious. Moriarty wouldn't take a chance on us tackling a familiar face." Once he said that, that gave me an idea.

"What if it is a familiar face? Just not the one we're looking for. Someone who blends in really well. Like an ambassador."

Watson looked at me like I was mad. "What are you implying?"

"What if the assassin is disguised as one of the ambassadors in attendance? Literally hiding in plain sight. Plus, what better way to start a war than the ambassador of one country killing the prime minister of another?"

Watson nodded as if he took what I said in good, curious standing. "You may be on to something, Doctor. However, for starters, we have no way of knowing who it could be if you're right. Second, if I tackle just any ambassador, I could start a war."

"You make a good point. But if we delay any longer, a war can ensue at any moment."

"I have an idea. Just follow my lead and keep your eyes peeled." I didn't know what he meant in that moment, but I soon realized that his methods of deduction were just as impressive as Sherlock's own. Judging by what he did next, he took Sherlock's mention of "spontaneous reaction" with good standing. Watson calmly walked over to a waiter and smacked the steel plate of glass trinkets out of his hand. This caught the attention of every guest in the room...except one that I saw across the room. One whom I dubbed to be the assassin once he stuck his hand in his coat pocket. Just before he could raise his pistol in the Prime Minister's direction, I tackled him to the ground.

As the police carried the assassin away, the assassin was shot with a poisoned dart and killed instantly. A dart which seemed to be fired by none other than Sebastian Moran. "I'll go help Sherlock on the balcony. You try and catch Moran." Watson advised of me to which I obliged him with a nod. He ran up to the balcony and I up to Moran. After a short chase, he escaped my sight. In fact, now that I think of it, I'm not sure what came of Moran after the case.

Anyway, I made my way up to the balcony to check if Holmes and Watson needed assistance. To my horror, neither Moriarty or Holmes were on the balcony anymore and I found Watson alone and broken down in pieces. The last thing he said he saw was Moriarty and Holmes pulling each other over the balcony in a scuffle.

* * *

"And that was the first time Sherlock died." The Doctor ended his story in a somber tone as all the Sherlocks and Joan Watson listened attentively around the podium. In the distance, the cheekbone studded Sherlock in the blue scarf had been looking down at the ground baffled with a pained, nearly guilty, expression in his eyes. That story really hit close to home for him Just the eerie parallels were enough for him to believe that this 18th century man was another version of himself. Or at least some older descendant. It had such a strange parallel for him to the last time he had seen his own John Watson in modern day London. The day of his own big fall.

The 18th century Sherlock gave a heavy sigh. "That's a very accurate portrait of what happened that night, Doctor, but I'd hate to break to it to you that I did not die that night."

"What?!" The Doctor gasped abruptly and astonished. "But...we had a funeral and everything! Where we were you? How could you have survived that fall?!"

"I didn't survive that fall because I didn't fall." The 18th century Sherlock started to explain. "Yes, Watson did see Moriarty and I topple over the balcony, but if you both had stayed just a little longer, you would see that I had clung to the building for dear life. I just spent the last few days tracking down Moriarty's men, just to make sure John and Mary weren't in harms way any longer."

"Few days?" The Doctor stared at the 18th century Sherlock confused.

"Yes, few days. Has it been longer?"

In fact, it had. The Doctor had last checked on John Watson a few months after the case and Sherlock was nowhere in sight. Before The Doctor could reply to 18th Century Sherlock, the TARDIS jerked immensely all of sudden and everyone fell to the ground.

"The hell was that?" Asked a startled Joan.

"I don't know. Let me check the-" As The Doctor was trying his best to explain, the TARDIS jerked once again and everyone toppled over. Once on his feet, The Doctor checked the monitors and it appeared as thought the TARDIS was heading to some unspecified location. "What the hell _was_ that?" He wondered to himself. "Where do you think you're going?" He whispered to the TARDIS.

"Doctor, pardon me a moment, but I don't think talking to your box is going fix whatever's wrong with it." The modernized Sherlock in the red scarf pointed out as he helped himself and Joan onto each other's feet.

"There shouldn't be anything wrong. She's never done this before." The Doctor rushed over to the podium and started pulling levers and pressing buttons, hopefully he'd press something that would help his ship by chance. "While I'm trying to fix her up, or figure out what's wrong with her to begin with...I think now is as good a time as ever to inform you all how I met Sherlock Holmes...again."


End file.
